${fontLinkMarker}

Alin Marin Elena's

Republic of Numbers and Letters
Tags

Charles Simic

alberto giacometti

Louis MacNeice

belle and Sebastian

gagarin

tar

van der graaf generator

daily

romanian

english

legend

camera obscura

supercomputing

top 500

coppola

eliade

film

youth without youth

Human rights act

abuse

migrants

iphone

lousy

4-3-2

oscar

french

le questionnaire de proust

creative sciences

francois mitterrand

sale

farmers

libido

malawi

hello

picture

diet

hazards

dragasani

ebay fraud

dor-de-munca

games

minicity

gorillas

missionary position

cuba

spanish

vista pictures

Marin Sorescu

Roger McGough

Craiova

cotidian

duel

varia

amarok

bbc

kde

flash

opensuse

dilema veche

nokia

yellow smiley face

academia life

Intimate monologues

many shades of blue

dart poetry

fabrizio de andrè

Andrea Parodi

Pablo Neruda

Amalia Rodrigues

Philip Larkin

uk ellections 2010

may day weekend

englush

modern art

despre prietenie

lateral thinking

eurovision 2010

wrong bank

dali

dreams

david lodge

thinks

dear fear

migala

cpu

gpu

intel. dogs

nvidia

ernesto sabato

makine

reading

google calendar

korganizer

philip glass

stupidity

electronic devices

vinicio capossela

amedeo modigliani

vinicio caposella

Mario Benedetti

Peter Porter

Andy Warhol

Femme Fatale

Lou reed

Velvet Underground

andrew motion

hp pavillion dm1 1020sa

opensuse 11.3

eye test

google chat

children in restaurants

kde4

ucd life

gabriel metsu

national gallery dublin

john cage

silence

bugs

software management

haruki mursakami

commonwealth games

church

vomit

Samuel Beckett

Anne Carson

rome

Michel Houellebecq

student protests

Christopher Hitchens

Tom Wayman

dublin

ireland

multicultural experiences

kent

be free think!!!

julian assange

wikileaks

Brian Patten

Jorge Luis Borges

arcade fire

John Grant

Paul Celan

henry moore

Murray Lachlan Young

crowd wisdom

Pier Paolo Pasolini

if not

Andrei Voznesensky

Marché Aux Puces

Tessimond

Camillo Sbarbero

Giuseppe Ungaretti


By: Alin Marin | March 10, 2010

by Pablo Neruda



White bee, you buzz in my soul, drunk with honey,

and your flight winds in slow spirals of smoke.



I am the one without hope, the word without echoes,

he who lost everything and he who had everything.



Last hawser, in you creaks my last longing.

In my barren land you are the final rose.



Ah you who are silent!



Let your deep eyes close. There the night flutters.

Ah your body, a frightened statue, naked.



You have deep eyes in which the night flails.

Cool arms of flowers and a lap of rose.



Your breasts seem like white snails.

A butterfly of shadow has come to sleep on your belly.



Ah you who are silent!



Here is the solitude from which you are absent.

It is raining. The sea wind is hunting stray gulls.



The water walks barefoot in the wet streets.

Fro...

Category: daily 

Tags: daily, english, Pablo Neruda 

By: Alin Marin | March 09, 2010

by Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have
lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense
without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is sta...

Category: daily 

Tags: daily, english, Pablo Neruda 

By: Alin Marin | March 08, 2010

by Marin Sorescu

A straw spent all its youth
In a mattress
And thought the world
To have only one dimension:
Weight.

Daily it pressed
With a force equal to desperation.
How do you know how it feels
You, who haven't spent all your youth
In a mattress?!

Now it goes quite mad,
The nights are as light
As the days,
Not even the dust settles on it
To rest for two hours after dinner.

It's a s if it wasn't a straw anymore,
But a feather from an angel's wing -
A former neighbour from the mattress -
That's how light it feels.

Yet sometimes intuition tells him
That, after all, the sky's also a mattress,
A bluer one,
On which the master snores.

from Let’s Talk about the Weather and other poems by Marin Sorescu at Forest Books, translated by Andreea Deletant and Brenda Walker.

Category: daily 

Tags: daily, english, Marin Sorescu 

By: Alin Marin | March 07, 2010

by Marin Sorescu


In the morning, a thin slice of living

With butter.

We also have water which rises continuously

(Last night it took up three quarters

Of the surface of the globe)

And we cluickly boil off all its microbes.


At lunch, we eat heartily and substantially -

Three sorts of earth:

Clay, sand and peat.


In the evening we don't often cook anything to eat.


We have a bite

Of perhaps a star plus a little honey,

Or something else which hasn't run out,

Happiness (Which in fact we're keeping for Sunday)

And anything else that might come about.



from Let’s Talk about the Weather and other poems by Marin Sorescu at Forest Books, translated by Andreea Deletant and Brenda Walker.

Category: daily 

Tags: daily, english, Marin Sorescu 

By: Alin Marin | March 06, 2010

by Marin Sorescu


There comes a time

When we have to draw a line under us

A black line

To do the summing up.


The few moments when you were about to be happy.

The few moments when we were nearly beautiful,

The few moments when we were almost a genius,

Occasionally we've met

Mountains, trees, water

(Whatever happened to them? Do they still exist?)

Each adds up to a brilliant future -

Which we've lived.


A woman we've loved.

Plus the same woman who didn't love us

Equals zero.


A quarter of a year of studies

Makes several million fodder words

Whose wisdom we've gradually eliminated.

And finally, a fate

Plus another fate (Now where does that come from?)

Equals two(Write one, carry one,

Perhaps, who knows, there is a life hereafter).


from Let’s Talk about the Weather and ...

Category: daily 

Tags: daily, english, Marin Sorescu